


Remembrance

by mikeymagee



Series: What Remains [3]
Category: Aquaman (2018), Black Panther (2018)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:17:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeymagee/pseuds/mikeymagee
Summary: T'challa tells David about his cousin.





	Remembrance

David Kane was beginning to realize, more and more, that T’challa was nothing like any of the other royals he had encountered. True, T’challa could fight with the best of them, lead better than any other, and speak with the clarity of a man who feared nothing. 

 

But there was something else about him...something David just couldn’t place. 

 

David Kane had made himself at home in the palace of the Panther king. At first, he was regarded as a play thing, another broken toy for the king to play with. But as time wore on, the rest of Wakanda (well, the royal court, at least) began to feel...at ease, around him. Shuri would often times take him to her lab, show him the newest memes. Okoye would use him as her personal training partner, and apparently, “training partner” meant punching bag in Wakandan. Nakia would take him on tours, teach him Xhosa and Swahili, and all of what she had seen in her travels. 

 

He was beginning to feel more and more like he belonged here. And David hadn’t felt that way since his father’s passing. 

 

“Well,” T’challa asked one evening at dinner. “How are you liking Wakanda my friend?”

 

David took a sip of his chardonnay, “It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.” And it was true. The technology blended with old African culture, the colors danced in the skies, and the people walked with a freedom David did not think could exist for people who looked like them. And yet, here they all were. “Though, I must confess, I get the feeling my experience might be a little skewed. After all, I do know the king.” 

 

T’challa’s face changed. He took a sip of his wine, pursed his lips, and then breathed a deep sigh. That, David knew, was the sound of a man with a heavy heart. David’s father used to have the same breathe; the same weighted truth that sunk to the pit of his stomach. 

 

“Did I strike a nerve, your majesty?” David asked, perhaps sounding a bit more pompous than he  meant to. It’s not that he wanted to dishonor his host, but David was never one to ignore obvious farces. That’s how you lose your life. 

 

“I’m sure,” T’challa began, “You’ve heard the rumors going on in the court. The talks, the glances.” T’challa ran his fingertips across his forehead. 

 

David had heard people talking, but most of what they said was in Xhosa and Swahili, and despite Nakia’s best efforts, David’s comprehension of Wakandan tongue was minimal at best. But there was one name that caught David’s ear. Erik Killmonger. 

 

“You,” T’challa began, “Remind us of another man who came to Wakanda, looking for a place to belong. A man we turned our backs on, and became the biggest threat the world had ever seen.” T’challa took a sip of his wine, and swallowed. 

“Who was he?” David asked, “This Killmonger that so many seem to fear.” 

 

“He was a Black American, much like yourself.” T’challa glanced to his side, taking in each detail he could; the metal pot that sat at the edge of the carpet; the lopsided curtains that kept the sunlight at bay. It was a tactical strategy David began to notice in the king. Whenever T’challa was stressed, he would calculate. “And much like you,” T’challa continued “His heart was filled with so much anger, there wasn’t room for anything else.”   

 

“What does that mean?” David asked. 

 

T’challa sighed, how many times would he have to recount this story? How many times would he have to relive his father’s failure, and the great shame Wakanda refused to acknowledge? “Erik Killmonger was my cousin. A man of Wakandan blood who was born and raised in your United States. T’challa tapped his finger against the marble table. “Erik’s father, my Uncle N’Jobu, stole something very precious from Wakanda and her people, and for it...my father killed him.”

 

The story of a son who had lost his father. That story was familiar to both of them.

 

“My father left Erik in that country.” T’challa winced, as if someone had stabbed a spear right into his abdomen. Was this what guilt looked like on the face of a king? “With no family and no one to take care of him. And then, decades later, the prodigal son returned to Wakanda to take the throne and everything else that was owed to him.” In one gulp, T’challa downed the rest of his wine. 

 

David allowed the silence to fill the air. To let the story marinate amongst the halls of the palace; the world seemed far too heavy now. Too much guilt for one country to bear. But...David couldn’t help asking-

 

“What happened to him?”

 

T’challa did not answer. He merely shook his head, and David dare not push the subject any more. 

 

So...was this T’challa’s way of making amends? Had the new king wished to erase the mistakes of his country, through saving David? Guilt was a strange beast.

 

“Do not misunderstand our sentiment, Manta,” T’challa said, “We do not hope to right past wrongs by placing our guilt onto another. Far from it.” T’challa rose to meet David’s gaze, “No, in your eyes I see myself. I see who I might’ve become if…” he hesitated, “...if things were different.” 

 

David smirked. “And what does that mean, your majesty?”

“It means that for Wakandan to help the outside world, it must first come to understand those who live there. Those who, like my cousin Erik says, ‘Looks like us’.” T’challa sighed and clasped his hands behind his back. “There is so much about our people that we do not yet know. Their struggle, their history, their lives under constant struggle. It is a life that no Wakandan has ever conceived of, and yet it is lived every day.” 

 

“So...what?” David asked, “I’m supposed to be your Black Power tutor? Like some kind of reverse Coming to America?” 

 

“No my friend,” T’challa said, “You are a first step in a long line of atonements that Wakanda must make. And that begins with welcoming those we turned our backs on.” T’challa smiled, “Do not think I did not see your smile as we walked down the streets of Golden City. All the people, draped in their clothes and garbs.”

 

True, it was something David never thought he would see. His father was always one to collect old paintings and Yoruba masks, but besides those small affiliations, Africa was a continent that David knew nothing of...but that didn’t mean he was uninterested in learning. And...if helping King T’challa on this mission helped David grow closer to the king...then why not? His submarine was still sunk, and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. So...

 

“Well,” David said with a sly grin, “What is it you wanted to know?”


End file.
